(LIBRA**  > 
**«*igj*yo»    , 
SAHWfOO     I 


STREET  TYPES 


GREAT  AMERICAN  CITIES 


BY 


S1GMUND  KRAUSZ 


WITH 

LITERARY  SKETCHES  BY  WELL-KNOWN  AUTHORS 
AND 

A  PREFACE  BY   DR.  EM1L  G.  HIRSCH 


1896 

THE  WERNER   COMPANY 
CHICAGO    NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1891,  BY  S.  KRAUSZ. 
COPYRIGHT,    1896,  BY  THE  WERNER  COMPANY. 


INTRODUCTION. 

In  placing  this  collection  of  Character  Studies  before  the  pub- 
lic I  hope  that  it  will  meet  with  the  recognition  and  hearty 
appreciation  of  such  as  have  daily  and  yearly  noted  these  types  in 
the  crowded  streets  of  our  American  cities. 

To  collect  these  studies  in  such  shape  and  execution  as  to  make 
the  volume  a  desirable  acquisition  to  every  lover  of  art,  it  was  not 
sufficient  merely  to  take  the  kodak  and  start  out  to  get  a  snap- 
shot at  a  desired  subject,  but  I  was  compelled  for  weeks  and 
months  to  haunt  the  crowded  thoroughfares,  the  fashionable  ave- 
nues and  the  dingy  alleys  for  such  characters  as  seemed  to  suit 
my  purpose;  and  when  I  had  found  them,  persuasion,  appeals  to 
their  vanity  and  very  frequently  pecuniary  considerations  had  to 
be  resorted  to  in  order  to  induce  them  to  visit  a  studio  in  the 
garb  and  equipments  of  their  daily  vocation. 

The  majority  of  my  characters  lacking  the  educational  quali- 
fications necessary  to  grasp  my  ideas,  I  had  many  failures,  caused 
by  their  unnatural,  awkward  and  stubborn  behavior  in  front  of  the 
camera,  before  I  had  sufficient  material  to  issue  this  collection. 

I  do  not  wish  to  speak  about  the  many  ludicrous  and  unpleas- 
ant experiences  my  self-imposed  task  has  brought  upon  me;  suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  after  enduring  frequent  insults,  escaping  a  fight 
with  a  courageous  dude,  being  taken  for  a  medical  student  in 
search  of  subjects  for  the  dissecting-room,  and  barely  avoiding 
arrest  through  a  misunderstanding  by  a  female  Italian  type,  I  am 
happy  to  present  the  '  'STREET  TYPES  OK  AMERICAN  CITIES'  '  to  the 
favorable  notice  of  the  public,  who  I  am  sure  will  find  the  same 
pleasure  in  looking  them  over  as  I  had  — despite  the  many  draw- 
backs— in  finding  them,  for  it  is  an  eternal  truth: 

"  In  arte  voluptas?' 

SIGMUND  KRAUSZ. 


PREFACE. 

It  is  with  great  pleasure  that  I  comply  with  the  request  of  the 
artist  to  whose  happy  thought  we  owe  this  presentation  of  the 
"  Street  Types  of  Great  American  Cities,"  to  introduce  by  a  few 
explanatory  words  the  creations  of  his  muse  to  the  general  public. 
It  has  been  said  that  the  American  cities  have  no  individuality  of 
their  own ;  that  the  visitor  who  has  tarried  a  few  weeks  in  one  of 
the  larger  centers  of  population  can  well  save  all  further  time  and 
trouble  in  studying  other  cities,  as  every  city  is  but  a  copy  of 
every  other,  all  being  built  on  one  and  the  same  monotonous  plan 
and  all  showing  the  same  general  features  without  essential 
variations.  This  generalization  is  more  brilliant  than  true.  On 
the  surface,  indeed,  our  large  emporia  may  in  so  far  differ  from 
the  European  capitals  as  having  all,  without  exception,  arisen 
from  similar  historical  conditions,  and,  being  devoted  to  industrial 
or  mercantile  enterprises,  they  lack  that  differentiated  flavor  of 
varied  historical  associations,  and  do  not  display  the  impress  of 
individual  minds  and  wills  which  are  more  or  less  to  be  expected 
where  the  monarch  and  not  the  people,  where  military  considera- 
tions and  not  the  necessities  of  commercial  activities,  where  the 
interests  of  the  court  and  not  the  wants  of  the  toilers  are  the 
prime  considerations.  But  with  all  these  historic  factors,  decisive 
and  weighty  no  doubt,  the  patient  observer,  not  content  to  abide 
by  surface  impressions,  will  speedily  learn  to  his  great  gratifica- 
tion that  within  the  general  similarity  due  to  these  causes  our 
American  cities  still  own  qualities  which  at  once  mark  them  off 
as  distinct  not  only  from  the  towns  of  Europe,  but  also  one  from 
the  other. 

Who  will  despise  the  day  of  small  things  ?  The  men  who 
meet  us  in  this  book  are  not  of  the  order  of  those  who  control  the 
destinies  of  a  city  by  the  vastness  of  the  enterprises  they  direct, 
but  all  of  them  in  their  modest  sphere  contribute  their  mite  to  the 


active  rush  which  ebbs  and  flows  along  our  busy  thoroughfares. 
Many  of  the  figures  which  in  this  collection  extend  to  us  their 
welcome  greeting  are  old  acquaintances  of  ours,  nay,  friends 
whose  occasional  absence  from  their  wonted  haunts  and  places 
incite  concern  for  their  well-being.  None  of  them  but  brings  us 
something,  be  it  the  hard-pressed  letter-carrier  or  the  sooty  coal- 
man; be  it  the  musician  or  the  pedlar;  they  belong  to  us.  Who 
would  miss  them?  In  their  very  countenances  is  mingled  self- 
reliance  with  the  desire  to  be  of  help  to  others,  and  on  all  is 
painted  the  determination  to  make  the  most  of  what  opportunity 
offers.  The  artist  has  caught  the  inspiration  of  his  subjects. 
This  book  can  therefore  not  fail  to  commend  itself  as  a  most  val- 
uable souvenir.  A  deep  thinker  it  was  who  said,  within  the  shell 
was  the  animal,  behind  the  book  the  man.  His  sentiment  applies 
to  cities  as  well.  Behind  the  piles  of  iron  and  steel  and  granite 
and  mortar  are  the  men.  These  much  more  than  the  edifices 
which  they  erect  are  characteristic  of  a  city.  And  these  humble 
street  types  are  without  doubt  to  be  numbered  among  the  men 
and  women  who  have  made  and  are  making  our  Great  Cities; 
they  are  the  promise  of  still  greater  achievements  to  be  garnered 
in  the  near  future. 

EMII,  G.  HIRSCH. 


INDEX  OF  SUBJECTS. 


SUBJECT. 

Bicycle  Girl  

Extry  !  All  about  the  West-side  Murder  ! 
One  of  the  Finest  .        .        . 

Can't  fool  dis  Niggah !          .        . 
Tennis  Girl  ..... 

Trained  Nurses      ..... 
Oh  golly,  but  I'se  Happy  !    . 
Matches  !     Flypaper  ! ! 

Letter-Carrier 

Our  Beerman 

In  the  Employ  of  the  Gas  Company 
Competitors  ..... 

Statuetti! 

The  Rev.  George  Washington  Snowball 

From  Far-away  Damascus 

Buy  da  Papah,  Signor? 

A  Disciple  of  ^Esculap 

The  Old  Soldier  .... 

French  Chewing  Candy! 

A  Fakir 

Fresh,  Hot  Chicken  Tamales ! 

John  

The  Milkman 

Rushing  the  Growler 
Rapid  Messenger  Service 

Streetsweeper 

Berries  !  Berries  !  !  Blackberries  !  !  ! 
Hallelujah  Lasses          .... 

Tough  

Accordion  Player  .... 

Nice  Feather- Dusters  !  ... 

The  Popcornman 

Schoolgirls  ..... 

Banana  Pedler  ...         .         . 

The  Coalman         .        .        .,      . 

Scissors !         .         .         .        .        . 

Bill  Poster  .         .         . 

Out  for  a  Stroll  .... 

Ah  There !  

The  Blind  Beggar  i 

Harp  and  Fiddle  .        .        .        . 

Ragpickers  

Organgrinder 

A  Musical  Family          .         .         .         . 

Shine! 

The  Iceman 


AUTHOR. 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
King,  Ben 
Armstrong,  Le  Roy 
Read,  Opie 
Krausz,  Sigmund 

King,  Ben 
Krausz,  Sigmund 


Clover,  Sam  T. 
Armstrong,  Le  Roy     . 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Head,  Franklin  II . 
Horton,  George 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Maitland,  James 
Krausz,  Sigmund 

McGovern,  John 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Pritchard,  Edward  R. 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Ritchie,  John 

Whitford,  C.  B.  ' 
Welch,  Frank  B. 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Waterloo,  Stanley 
Schierbrand,  Wolf  von 
Krausz,  Sigmund 

Schierbrand,  Wolf  vcn 
Krausz,  Sigmund 


Horton,  George        '    . 
Armstrong,  Le  Roy 
Banks,  Charles  Eugene 
Blum,  Edgar  C. 
Krausz,  Sigmund 
Blum,  Edgar  C. 


PAGE. 
9 

13 
17 

21 
25 
29 

33 
37 
4i 
45 
49 
53 
57 
61 

65 
69 

73 
77 
81 

85 
89 

93 

97 

101 

105 
109 

H3 
117 

121 
125 
129 

133 
137 
141 

145 
149 

153 
157 

161 
165 
169 

173 
177 
181 
185 
189 


GIRL 


BICYCLE  GIRL, 

Though  a  "  fin  de  siecle"  product  she  is  not  necessarily  a  new 
woman.  If  not  always  a  picture  of  feminine  grace  on  the  wheel, 
she  represents,  as  a  rule,  vigor  and  health  off  the  wheel.  The 
world  has  arrived  at  a  point  where  it  does  not  look  askance  at  a 
maiden  devoted  to  healthful,  invigorating  sport. 

The  bicycle  girl  does  not  necessarily  loose  any  of  the  sweet 
feminine  graces  that  the  sturdier  sex  so  much  admires,  for  indulg- 
ing in  an  outdoor  exercise  which  can  only  be  beneficial  to  her  con- 
stitution. If  "  mens  sana  in  corpere  sano"  applies  to  man  why  not 
to  woman  ?  If  the  lord  of  creation  needs  a  sturdy  constitution  to 
fulfill  his  part  during  his  short  sojourn  in  the  universe  why  not 
woman  ?  Long  enough  has  she  been  kept  from  the  pleasures  and 
benefits  of  athletic  exercises  by  the  conventionalities  of  society. 
She  can  only  be  congratulated  for  breaking  loose  from  long  es- 
tablished prej  udices.  The  world  will  be  all  the  better  off  for  it, 
as  the  result  can  be  no  other  than  happier  matrimony  and  strong 
and  vigorous  motherhood. 

The  question  has  been  raised  as  to  the  moral  influence  of  bi- 
cycle exercise  upon  our  girls.  Some  have  condemned  the  whole 
sport  on  account  of  a  few  exceptional  cases  that  have  come  under 
their  observation,  where  a  dire  result  might  perhaps  be  traced  in- 
directly to  the  innocent  bicycle.  To  condemn  a  healthful  exercise 
on  such  trivial  grounds  is  like  throwing  a  beautiful  apple  away  on 
account  of  a  small  speck  of  dirt  on  its  skin.  Looking  at  our  bi- 
cycle girl  in  the  illustration  one  cannot  but  receive  the  impress- 
ion that  the  American  girl  can,  under  all  circumstances,  well  take 
care  of  herself.  Give  her,  therefore,  more  elbow-room.  She  is 
all  right ! 


10 


BICYCLE  GIRL. 


ALL  ABOUT  THE 


EXTRY!  ALL  ABOUT  THE  WEST  SIDE 

MURDER ! ! 

/ 

Dar's  er  mighty  'culiah  newsboy 

Dat  gets  mixed  in  wid  de  res' 
His  ha'r  is  so't  o'  crinky, 

En  dar's  tatters  in  'is  dress. 
Ole  Africa  is  in  'is  face, 

De  chalk  is  in  'is  eye, 
Yet  far  above  all  other  waifs 

I  hear  'is  plaintive  cry. 

For  hit's  early  in  the  mohnin'  w'en  he's  rakin'  in  de  dimes — 
Intah  Ocean,  H'yarld,  Trebune,  Globe,  Mohnin'  News,  en  Times. 
En  de  later  evening  papers 

Brings  about  the  startling  wail: — 
All  about  de  double  murder  in 

De  Journal,  Pos' ,  en  Mail. 


14 


EXTRY !    ALL  ABOUT  THE  \VEST  SIDE  MURDER  ! 

J5 


ONE  OF  THE  FINEST, 

The  moral  status  of  the  policeman  is  the  moral  status  of  the 
city  he  serves.  Complain  as  you  will  of  the  scandalous  conduct 
of  this  or  that  member.  Mourn  at  the  seeming  general  depravity 
of  the  men  who  wear  the  blue.  They  are  yet  a  reflex  of  the  peo- 
ple who  employ  them.  When  Cromwell  ruled,  officers  were 
praying  men.  When  Louis  was  king,  they  intrigued  for  mis- 
tresses. In  America  they  travel  on  the  average  lines  of  intelli- 
gence, honesty  and  fidelity  followed  by  the  mass. 

Policemen  are  men.  They — unlike  poets — are  made,  not 
born.  What  a  man  was  in  former  life  he  is  as  a  policeman.  Put- 
ting on  blue,  thatching  his  poll  with  a  helmet,  filling  his  hand 
with  a  club  or  a  revolver  does  not  make  him  braver,  of  abler,  or 
more  honest  than  he  was  at  the  beginning.  Also,  it  cannot  make 
him  worse.  Remember  in  your  sweeping  condemnation  the 
officers  who  stand  indifferent  to  weather;  who  brave  danger  every 
time  they  help  a  child  across  the  street;  who  invite  mutilation  every 
time  they  make  an  arrest;  who  are  knit  of  the  fibre  of  rectitude 
and  strength,  and  who  stand  for  the  best  that  is  in  their  employer. 
Remember,  as  there  are  heights  of  holiness,  there  are  sinks  of  in- 
iquity. Laving  in  these  polluted  waters  are  human  brutes  whose 
venomous  hate  is  leveled  at  no  one  with  such  deadly  purpose  as 
at  the  officer.  They  delight  in  ' '  slugging ' '  him.  They  are  the 
tigers  of  a  city's  jungle.  They  rend  without  reason — only  be- 
cause they  hate  that  typified  Right.  They  would  peril  their  life 
to  injure  it.  They  would  give  their  life  to  obliterate  it. 

Between  the  Bad,  who  hate  him  upon  one  side,  and  the  Good, 
who  distrust  him  on  the  other,  the  life  of  "  One  of  the  Finest  " 
is  far  from  serene. 


ONK  OF  THE  FINEST. 

19 


21 


CAN'T  FOOL  DIS  NIGGAH! 

It  is  evident  that  it  would  not  be  a  very  easy  matter  to  "  fool 
dis  niggah."  With  the  inherent  imitative  faculty  of  the  negro, 
he  has  caught  the  shrewdness  of  his  associates — has  learned  their 
tune  and  has  added  to  it  a  few  notes  of  his  own.  The  keen  and 
cold  nip  of  necessity  in  the  atmosphere  of  his  environment  has 
turned  the  wonted  blitheness  of  his  nature  into  semi-cynicism ; 
the  simple  credulity  of  his  fathers,  the  faith  and  trustfulness 
which  lightened  many  a  galling  load  and  tempered  the  sting  of 
the  slave-driver's  lash,  has  found  no  lodgment  in  his  doubting 
nature.  He  is  a  materialist,  and  accepts  no  theory;  if  he  tells  a 
truth  it  is  because  he  believes  it  will  pay  better  than  a  lie.  And 
yet,  he  has  one  of  the  brightest  of  virtues — kindness  of  heart. 
He  is  a  new  type  of  outcast — a  chunk  of  black  driftwood  on  a 
city's  restless  tide. 


22 


CAN'T  FOOL,  DIS  NIGGAH  ! 
23 


JNNB  CIQL 


TENNIS  GIRL. 

The  jaunty  cap  over  the  fluffy  hair,  dressed  in  an  airy  suit 
which  is  exceedingly  becoming,  her  face  flushed  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  interesting  sport,  she  walks  with  elastic  steps  off  the 
tennis  grounds.  As  she  carelessly  swings  the  raquet  in  her 
hand,  her  springy  gait  as  well  as  the  luster  of  her  eyes  and  the 
healthy  color  of  her  cheeks  betray  the  perfect  state  of  her  physical 
condition.  L,ike  all  women  devoted  to  outdoor  sports  she  has  a 
certain  independent  air  about  her.  While  not*  so  prominent  a 
type  on  the  streets  of  the  city  as  the  bicycle  girl,  she  may  be  fre- 
quently seen  on  the  lawns  of  the  fine  residence  streets,  and  many 
a  passer-by  will  stop  for  a  moment  and  admire  her  graceful  mo- 
tions as  she  flits  over  the  grass,  or ; Bends  her  lithe  body  in  graceful 
curves  to  receive  a  high  ball;  , 

The  Tennis  girl  is  anything  if  not  picturesque,  and  in  this 
respect  she  certainly  outranks  her  sister  of  the  wheel.  She  has 
been  made  the  object  of  the  camera  as  well  as  the  brush  of  the 
artist,  and  many  are  the  songs  that  have  been  written  in  her 
praise.  Looking  at  our  picture,  who  would  say  that  the  tennis 
girl  does  not  deserve  all  the  nice  epitaphs  that  have  been  bestowed 
on  her,  or  that  all  the  pretty  things  said  about  her  are  not  really 
true?  As  an  embodiment  of  feminine  grace  I  vote  her  the  palm, 
and  say:  She  is  my  ideal !  Would  I  were  hers  ! 


PAINED  NUR5E5 


TRAINED  NURSES. 

What  a  blessing  to  humanity  the  noble  sisterhood  of  trained 
nurses  is!  Clad  in  their  plain  brown,  gray  or  dark-blue  habit, 
they  remind  one  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy.  And  that  is  what  they  are 
to  a  certain  extent;  for  money  can  hardly  repay  the  tender  care 
and  unlimited  patience  which  they  extend  to  the  sick  at  the  hos- 
pitals and  private  homes.  If  it  takes  innate  predilection  and  ab- 
solute devotion  to  succeed  in  a  profession,  the  trained  nurse  has 
to  have  both  in  the  highest  degree.  A  course  of  two,  or  even 
three  years,  in  one  of  the  training  schools  will  not  make  a  nurse, 
in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  out  of  a  woman,  unless  she  be  de- 
voted to  the  work  with  her  whole  Hi  eart  and  being.  Nurses,  like 
poets,  are  born  and  not  made,  and  it  is  quite  a  difference  to  the 
sick  whether  a  nurse  takes  care  of  them  whose  heart  is  in  her 
work  or  one  who,  like  an  automaton,  simply  takes  the  tempera- 
ture and  administers  with  clock-like  regularity  the  prescribed 
doses  of  medicine. 

Ah  !  a  good  nurse  is  like  an  angel  around  the  suffering,  and 
if  her  touch  cannot  heal,  her  presence  can  certainly  alleviate  and 
help  to  endure  the  pains  of  the  sick-bed. 

The  trained  nurses  are  street  types  only  in  the  sense  that  they 
are  met  with  frequently  on  the  thoroughfares  of  the  city,  where 
they  are  easily  distinguished  by  their  modest  and  nun-like  garb. 
When  they  are  seen  on  the  streets  it  is  generally  to  seek  relaxa- 
tion from  the  arduous  duties  of  the  sick-room  and  to  catch  a 
breath  of  fresh  air  so  as  to  gain  new  strength  for  the  vigil  of  the 
coming  night.  God  bless  them  ! 


30 


TRAINED  NURSES. 


33 


OH  GOLLY,  BUT  FSE  HAPPY! 

Talk  about  de  possum  en  de  rabbit  en  de  deer. 

En  bake  leg  o'  mutton.     En  hog-jole  en  greens. 
Talk  about  de  turkey  en  feesh  de  niggers  spear. 

W'y  how  yo'  talk.     Yo'  doan  know  what  dis  means. 
Talk  about  de  spring  house  en  roas'  pork  en  sech, 

En  buttahmilk  ter  fill  a  man  wid  glee. 
De  white  man  kin  tackle  all  this  nonsense  ef  he  mus' . 

But  de  watah-milliun's  good  'nuff  fo  me. 

BEN  KING. 


34 


OH  GOLLY,  BUT  I'SE  HAPPY ! 
35 


ATCHC5!  fiyPAPER!! 


37 


MATCHES !  FLYPAPER ! ! 

"Matches!  Flypaper!!"  is  the  war-cry  with  which  this 
future  merchant-prince  hurls  himself  into  the  daily  life  and  strife 
of  our  western  metropolis. 

His  is  not  an  easy  task,  and  many  are  the  vicissitudes  and 
disappointments  that  interfere  with  the  happy  pursuit  of  his  daily 
vocation. 

His  cradle  stood  in  far-away  Russia,  where  he  passed  a  bliss- 
ful babyhood;  but  ever  since  the  cruel  ukase  of  the  czar  deprived 
his  progenitors  of  the  means  of  a  livelihood,  and  compelled  them 
to  seek  refuge  across  the  briny  deep,  he  had  to  contribute  his 
share  towards  the  support  of  the  family. 

He  does  it  dutifully,  and  his  smiling  face  betrays  not  the 
hardships  of  a  pedlar's  life  nor  the  anguish  of  his  young  heart. 

He  manages  to  save  from  his  small  earnings,  and  the  future 
will  see  him  a  successful  business  man — perhaps  a  millionaire, 
groping  with  financial  problems — but  meanwhile  the  only  ques- 
tion that  interests  him  is  whether  the  pedlar's  license  will  be 
increased  or  not,  or  how  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  janitor  in 
the  big  office  building  which  he  is  about  to  enter,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  canvassing  his  wares,  in  bold  defiance  of  the  warning  sign , 
' '  No  pedlars  allowed. ' ' 

Though  he  is  very  cunning  in  disposing  of  his  matches,  he  is 
not  always  successful  in  solving  this  latter  question,  for  the  back 
part  of  his  anatomy  very  frequently  bears  strong  evidence  that 
his  cunning  had  found  a  match. 


38 


MATCHES !   FLYPAPER ! ! 

39 


THE  LETTER-CARRIER 

Have  you  ever  conceived  what  an  important  part  the  letter- 
carrier  plays  in  life  and  in  the  history  of  civilization  ? 

Have  you  ever  thought  about  the  clever  mechanism  of  the 
great  machine — so  perfect  in  every  detail — of  which  he  is  the 
alpha  and  omega  ? 

If  you  have  done  so,  you  will  have  found  the  secret  of -his 
popularity,  for  was  there  ever  a  type  more  welcome  in  hut  or  pal- 
ace than  the  letter-carrier  ? 

Ever  since  the  time  of  Cadmus  has  he  been  the  bearer  of  tidings 
joyful  and  sorrowful,  and  the  maiden  of  to-day  awaits  the  dain- 
tily enveloped  missive  of  her  admirer  with  the  same  anxiety  as 
the  virgin  maiden  of  Rome  or  Athens  awaited  the  waxen  tablets 
on  which  the  stylus  of  her  lover  had  engraved  his  tender  feelings. 

But  incomparably  harder  was  the  lot  of  the  ancient  messenger 
than  that  of  his  brother  of  to-day. 

The  distances  he  had  to  traverse  were  long,  the  roads — if  any 
— bad,  and  great  was  the  danger  that  frequently  lurked  in  his 
path.  .  .  . 

Centuries  have  rolled  down  the  abyss  of  time,  and  the  lot  of 
the  modern  letter-carrier  has  become  comparatively  easier. 

Steamboats  and  railways  have  relieved  him  of  the  most  ardu- 
ous part  of  his  duty,  and  the  light  and  flimsy  product  of  rags  has 
taken  the  place  of  the  cumbersome  tablets  of  the  ancients  and  the 
voluminous  parchment  rolls  of  medieval  times;  but  still  his  task 
is  not  an  enviable  one,  and  trudging  his  monotonous  daily  rounds 
carrying  in  his  bag  unconsciously  and  unconcernedly  Fortuna's 
and  Pandora's  gifts  alike,  the  letter-carrier  well  deserves  our 
sympathy. 


THK  LKTTKR  CARRIKR. 
43 


UB  BEOMN 


45 


OUR  BEERMAR 

Rattling  down  the  streets  comes  a  covered  wagon,  driven  by 
"  our  beerman,"  a  burly  fellow  whose  jolly  countenance  betrays 
him  as  a  native  of  the  "  Fatherland." 

Here  and  there  he  stops  his  team,  drags  a  box  out  of  his  vehi- 
cle, and  as  he  rings  the  basement  bell  of  a  residence,  or  knocks  at 
the  front  door  of  a  cottage,  he  looks  all  "  pizness." 

And  it  is  a  good  business  "our  beerman"  is  doing,  for  the 
cosmopolitan  population  of  American  cities  has  in  latter  years 
increased  at  an  immense  rate,  and  there  are  thousands  of  families, 
foreign  and  native,  who  receive  their  weekly  supply  of  bottled 
' '  Hofbraii, ' '  ' '  Edelweiss  "  or  "  Zacherl. ' ' 

With  the  advent  of  beer  the  reign  of  whisky  is  doomed,  for  it 
is  an  established  fact  that  there  is  less  drunkenness  and  depravity 
among  beer-drinking  nations  than  among  those  whose  favorite 
liquid  is  of  a  more  alcoholic  quality,  and  for  this  reason  "our 
beerman  ' '  will  prosper,  for  in  the  same  proportion  as  his  business 
increases  the  frequenting  of  saloons  and  whisky-drinking  must 
decrease. 


46 


OUR  BEER  MAN. 
47 


IN  HIE  EMPLOY  OF  TttE 

AS COMPANY 


49 


IN  THE  EMPLOY  OF  THE  GAS  COMPANY. 

We  all  know  this  man,  many  of  us  to  our  sorrow.  He  may 
be  said  to  be  in  bad  odor  continuously — both  above  and  below 
ground.  There  is  not  much  superfluous  flesh  on  his  bones,  but 
then  a  diet  of  escaping  gas  is  not  particularly  conducive  to  adi- 
pose tissue.  In  spite  of  his  acts  of  vandalism  one  cannot  with- 
hold a  feeling  of  pity  for  the  poor  devil  who  works  so  faithfully 
and  unremittingly — when  the  gang-boss  is  in  his  proximity. 
Wait  until  the  foreman  is  at  the  farther  end  of  the  block,  how- 
ever, and  your  sentiments  will  experience  a  change.  Instead  of 
pity,  it  is  admiration  you  will  feel  for  this  worthy  representative 
of  the  dinner-pail  brigade,  who  can  do  more  artistic  loafing  than 
any  other  member  of  the  order.  Not  that  he  stops  work  at  all ; 
bless  you,  he  is  too  cute  for  that  !  Just  watch  his  pick  rise  and 
fall,  and  you  will  comprehend  my  meaning.  Why,  a  blind  man 
could  detect  by  its  sound  just  how  far  away  that  gang-boss  was 
from  the  digger.  He  is  a  social  sort  of  fellow.  He  likes  to 
chat  with  his  neighbor  in  the  next  trench,  nods  to  the  cabbies  that 
drive  by,  and  has  even  been  known  to  attempt  a  flirtation  with 
the  servant  girl  engaged  in  sweeping  her  mistress's  porch.  He 
drinks  freely  of  the  water  that  the  small  boy  with  the  wooden 
bucket  offers  in  a  tin  dipper,  for  he  sweats  profusely,  and  his  sys- 
tem needs  replenishing.  But  it  is  at  noon,  when  his  growler-can 
is  filled  from  the  nearest  saloon,  that  he  appears  in  all  his  glory. 
Watch  him  take  a  swig  !  No  bottle  with  a  white  label  was  ever 
emptied  with  keener  zest  than  that  beer-can.  Talk  about  nectar 
for  the  gods  ?  He  would  none  of  it !  Give  him  beer — all  he  can 
guzzle — and  he  is  supremely  happy. 


SO 


IN  THE  EMPLOY  OF  THE  GAS  COMPANY. 
51 


OMPETITOB5 


COMPETITORS. 

This  conflict  is  not  only  irrepressible;  it  is  hopelessly  unend- 
ing. Oil  and  water  are  not  more  diverse  than  are  the  black  man 
and  the  white.  Good  humor  may  bridge  the  gulf.  Hilarity  may 
gloss  the  scar.  But  when  the  laughter  and  dance  are  ended, 
there  lies  an  ocean  of  difference,  of  antagonism,  of  scorn  on  the 
one  side  and  spite  on  the  other — for  the  Caucasian  and  the  Ethio- 
pian are  at  war.  The  land  which  gave  the  latter  birth  was  pushed 
in  creation  far  away,  below  and  apart  from  the  land  of  light.  It 
was  divided  by  seas,  and  bulwarked  by  deserts.  It  was  all  but 
cut  off,  and  kept  its  tiny  tendon  of  connection  at  the  most  forbid- 
ding point — where  the  simoom  of  the  South  was  wasted  and  lost 
in  the  measureless  sands  of  the  East.  Yet  Fate,  ' '  whose  step- 
ping-stones are  ages,"  pierced  through  all  barriers,  to  leaven  with 
the  African  the  lighter  life  of  Europe  and  the  West.  But  domi- 
nance is  not  shifted.  By  a  Suez  isthmus  the  darker  lad  still 
clings  to  human  recognition.  By  the  preponderance  of  mighty 
seas  the  white  denies  it. 

"  I  am  a  master;  you,  my  slave  !  " 

' '  Prove  it — for  I  am  a  man  !  ' ' 

The  street  boys,  with  all  humanity  in  common,  with  enjoy- 
ments akin,  with  efforts  alike,  with  accomplishments  equal,  revert 
to  the  primal  struggle — and  force  alone  can  determine.  For  force 
is  the  one  language  in  common,  down  deep  below  acquired  cour- 
tesy. Has  Sambo  trespassed  on  the  claim  of  Jim  ?  Then  Sambo 
must  move  on.  Has  Jim,  in  arrogance  of  fairer  skin,  pushed  his 
frontiers  beyond  Sambo's  reserves?  Then  he  shall  maintain 
them  there.  The  black  may  struggle.  He  will  struggle,  because 
he  is  upright,  because  he  can  laugh;  but  in  the  end  he  shall  fail. 
Land  of  Goshen  shall  be  taken  from  him. 

Two  gamins  typify  the  feud  of  the  races,  and  the  circling  sun 
can  find  but  one  solution. 


54 


COMPETITORS. 
55 


JATUETTI ! 


57 


STATUETTI ! 

The  statuetti-man.  who  sells  the  pretty  little  plaster  casts,  is  a 
character  similar  to  other  Greek  and  Italian  street  venders,  but 
he  is  a  man  of  different  caliber.  He  looks  down  on  the  poor  scis- 
sor-grinder  or  banana-man  as  plebeians  and  uneducated  persons. 
He  is  an  aristocrat,  and  knows  all  about  art.  He  has  the  famous 
masterpieces  of  sculpture  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  he  talks,  if  he 
knows  enough  English,  about  the  Venus  of  Milo,  the  Apollo 
Belvidere,  the  group  of  Laocoon,  or  the  dying  gladiator,  with  the 
same  ease  as  an  American  fakir  talks  about  the  merits  of  a  new 
shoe-polish,  or  a  patent  corkscrew.  While  the  other  one  has  to 
stand  on  the  sidewalk  or  in  the  street,  the  statuetti-man  is  not  in- 
frequently allowed  to  enter  the  parlor,  where  he  freely  gives 
his  opinion  on  pictures  and  bric-a-brac,  however,  not  forgetting  to 
praise  his  own  stock  of  art  treasures  with  a  view  of  a  profitable 
sale.  His  prices  are  not  fixed.  He  suits  them  to  the  surround- 
ings, charging  in  some  cases  $.50  for  a  little  plaster  of  paris 
amorette,  while  he  advances  the  price  of  the  same  piece  in  another 
case  to  $1.50. 

O,  he  is  shrewd,  and  it  will  not  take  him  long  to  have  a  little 
store,  where  he  will  dispose  of  his  reproductions  of  the  antique, 
without  being  compelled  to  peddle  the  same  from  house  to  house, 
carrying  the  heavy  basket  on  his  arm.  He  is  more  apt  to  appre- 
ciate the  advantages  of  this  country  than  other  street-venders  of 
his  nationality,  and  the  probability  is  that  he  will  remain  here  to 
enlighten  us  ignorant  Americans  about  the  ancient  art  of  Greece 
and  Rome. 


58 


STATTETTI ! 
59 


THE  REV.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON 

NOWBALL 


61 


THE  REV.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON 
SNOWBALL. 

The  Rev.  George  Washington  Snowball  is  a  many-sided  man. 
One  side  presented  for  his  Sunday  congregation,  the  other  to  the 
white  brethren.  To  his  Sunday  audience  he  portrays  especially 
the  terrors  of  the  lawd.  "  Bredrin,"  he  says,  "  and  sistern,  it  is 
time  we  had  a  'freshin  season.  You  must  prepare  to  shake  world" 
liness  or  when  Gabriel  toot  his  horn  he'll  call  up  all  goats  and  no 
sheep  out  ob  dis  congregation.  Some  ob  the  members  of  dis 
church  must  'scribe  more  liberally  for  de  'sport  of  de  gospel  or 
dey  will  be  unjined.  Git  'lijjen  and  hole  onto  it  or  the  debbil  with 
his  horns  and  hoofs  and  tail  will  chuck  you  into  de  eberlastin  bon- 
fire. I  heard  one  ob  de  bredren  saying  last  week  dat  he  done 
jined  de  church  two  years  and  it  cost  him  so  fur  only  four  cents. 
Salvation  like  dis  is  too  free.  He  be  one  ob  de  niggers  such  as  is 
'scribed  in  de  pome  writ  by  General  George  Washington — 
Dat  pore  sinner' 11  be  cotched  out  late 
And  find  no  latch  to  de  golden  gate. 

I  tell  you,  bredren  and  sistern,  de  debbil  be  going  round  like 
a  roaring  lion  seeking  he  may  devour  somebody,  and  if  you  don't 
backslide  and  repent  and  pay  up  de  pew  rent  he  hab  his  grip  on 
you  in  de  judgmatical  day." 

To  the  white  brethren  the  colored  pastor  is  all  smiles  and  amia- 
bility. He  approaches  the  man  of  business  and  says  :  "  I  is  de 
pastor  ob  de  Fust  Methodist  Church,  and  as  de  congregation  be 
poor,  we  is  obliged  to  call  on  some  ob  de  rich  white  folks  to  'scribe 
for  buildin  de  church.  I  done  called  on  de  President  of  de  Fust 
National  Bank  and  he  telled  me  that  he  know  you  would 
'scribe  to  help  me  and  Jesus  build  a  church  for  de  lambs  of  de 
flock  and  sabe  dere  souls  from  demnation.  He  tell  me  it  no  use 
to  go  to  de  common  people  in  de  street,  but  to  see  jest  de  most 
distinguished  citizens  and  I  corned  to  you  de  fust  of  all,"  and  by 
this  gracious  speech  he  seeks  to  transfer  the  shekels  of  the 
ungodly  to  the  upbuilding  of  the  kingdom. 

62 


THE  REV.  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  SNOWBALL. 
63 


OM 


FROM  FAR-AWAY  DAMASCUS. 

Doesn't  she  look  cheerful,  self-reliant  and  shrewd?  She  is  no 
whining  beggar.  She  is  a  merchant,  and  perfectly  capable  of 
making  her  own  living.  She  comes,  in  fact,  from  a  nation  of 
traders.  Damascus,  in  far-away  Syria,  is  famous  for  its  bazars 
and  little  emporiums.  Doubtless  this  very  woman's  father  kept 
a  little  shop  in  the  famous  old  city,  and  her  earliest  recollections 
are  connected  with  the  driving  of  sharp  bargains. 

A  very  lively  city  is  that  same  Damascus,  and  in  busy  seasons 
its  streets  and  bazars  are  crowded  with  people  of  many  nationali- 
ties, and  nearly  everyone  you  meet  is  as  picturesque  and  business- 
like as  our  friend  in  the  illustration.  Great  is  the  variety  of 
articles  that  change  hands:  silks,  gold  and  silver  ornaments  and 
trinkets,  Persian  and  Turkish  carpets,  amber  gewgaws,  artistic 
bits  of  old  china,  cashmere  shawls,  coffee,  tobacco,  pipes  and  what 
not.  Our  friend  has  followed  the  dictates  of  early  training  in 
filling  her  basket.  She  has  collar-buttons,  fancy  purses,  breast- 
pins, pins  and  needles,  thread,  handkerchiefs  and  many  other 
articles. 

The  thought  naturally  occurs  to  one  that  business  must  be 
pretty  brisk  with  the  woman,  for  she  doesn't  look  homesick. 
But  if  our  smiling  merchant  is  not  discontented,  we  will  awake 
no  memories  to  make  her  so.  She  has  come  to  this  country  to 
make  her  living,  and  she  appears  to  know  what  she  is  about. 


66 


FROM  FAR-AWAY  DAMASCUS. 
67 


PBUY  DA   r» 
\PER,5l6NOR? 


BUYA  DA  PAPAH,  SIGNOR? 

Who  has  not  been  accosted,  especially  evenings  and  in  the 
down-town  districts,  by  one  of  these  forsaken-looking  miniature 
specimens  of  toiling  humanity  ? 

"  Buya  da  papah,  signor?"  is  their  plaintive  cry,  and  it  seems 
to  tell  a  sad  story  of  privation,  hunger  and  neglected  childhood 
driven  out  in  the  night  by  unfeeling  and  barbaric  parents,  or, 
worse  perhaps,  by  a  cruel  padrone,  to  earn  a  few  paltry  cents  for 
their  protectors. 

As  one  sees  them,  of  a  winter  evening,  shiver  on  the  street- 
corners,  exposed  to  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  their  stunted 
little  bodies  poorly  protected  by  an  old,  ragged  shawl,  against  the 
rain  and  sleet,  crying  out  with  their  thin,  childish  voices,  or 
mutely  upholding  with  their  stiff  little  hands  an  evening  paper, 
one  might  feel,  indeed,  that  this  is  a  cruel  world,  into  which  every 
minute  a  new  sufferer  is  born. 

What  a  contrast  between  the  male  and  female  street  Arab  ! 
How  self-confident,  how  mischievous  the  one;  how  dejected,  how 
for  lorn -looking  the  other  ! 

One  might  feel  compassion  and  concern  towards  both  of  them 
but  while  the  one,  in  a  sense,  hardly  deserves  it,  being  self-reliant 
and  by  nature  hardened  against  the  adversities  of  life,  the  other 
calls  forth  the  deepest  pity,  the  utmost  resentment  against  social 
conditions  that  allow  a  tender  being,  a  future  mother  of  citizens, 
to  be  pressed  into  service  to  help  earn  a  livelihood  for  depraved 
and  conscienceless  progenitors. 

Will  this  problem  ever  be  solved  ? 


70 


RUVA   DA  I'ATAH,  SIGXOR? 


73 


A  DISCIPLE  OF  AESCULAP. 

You  all  know  this  character,  have  known  him  for  years,  and, 
judging  from  his  perennial  vivacity  and  virile  force,  he  is  likely 
to  survive  many  of  his  younger  competitors.  His  beard  is  silvery, 
but  his  form  is  erect,  and  there  are  not  wanting  men  who  allege 
that  he  wears  spectacles,  not  to  see  through,  but  so  that  they 
cannot  be  seen  through — by  an  outsider.  Our  friend's  stock  in 
trade  is  not  extensive.  It  consists  of  a  black  bag,  an  aged  um- 
brella, a  suit  of  shiny  black,  and  a  venerable  appearance.  In  the 
black  bag  he  carries  mysterious  compounds,  guaranteed  to  cure 
every  ill  to  which  human  flesh  is  subject.  He  is  a  bird  of  passage, 
and  principally  affects  the  smaller  country  towns,  where  he  es- 
tablishes himself  at  a  second-rate  hotel.  Then  a  small  boy  dis- 
tributes circulars,  setting  forth  that  Professor  Blank  of  the  Royal 
College  of  Physicians  of  Dunnowhere  will  be  in  town  for  one 
week  and  holds  himself  in  readiness  to  cure  every  trouble  from 
toothache  to  cancer.  His  clientage  is  derived  mostly  from  that 
class  of  women  whose  chief  trouble  is  ill- temper  generated  by 
dyspepsia.  With  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  State  Board  of  Health 
before  his  eyes,  our  friend  seldom  stays  more  than  a  few  days  in 
one  place;  and  as  to  his  so-called  panaceas,  it  would  be  found  on 
analysis  that  if  they  could  do  no  good,  they  certainly  could  do  no 
harm. 


74 


A  DISCIPLK  OF  AHSCUIvAPIUS. 

75 


ffOUKOLDim 


77 


THE  OLD  SOLDIER. 

Gettysburg,  Shiloh,  Appomattox  !  Glorious  memories  that 
come  back  to  us  at  the  sight  of  an  old  soldier.  Memories  that 
will  live  forever  in  tradition  and  history.  Happy  he  who  has 
been  an  active  helper  in  the  glorious  achievements  for  humanity 
and  civilization  that  resulted  from  an  otherwise  deplorable  war  of 
brothers.  All  the  misery,  all  the  suffering  must  be  forgotten  in 
contemplation  of  the  glorious  result. 

Unlike  European  nations,  the  United  States  government  is 
generous  to  its  old  soldiers.  It  does  not  show  its  gratitude  to  the 
veterans  by  generously  granting  them  the  privilege  to  solicit 
alms,  but  it  gives  them  substantial  pensions.  The  old  soldier 
here  is  not  an  object  of  pity.  He  is  a  respected  and  beloved  hero, 
looked  upon  by  all  with  equal  admiration.  If  he  be  without 
friends  he  may  join  the  great  family  in  one  of  the  splendidly 
equipped  soldiers'  homes,  where  he  may  await  in  peace  the  last 
bugle  call.  If  he  have  progeny  he  is  sure  to  spend  the  eve  of  his 
life  among  beloved  ones,  who  never  tire  to  hear  the  stirring  sto- 
ries of  the  historic  struggle  repeated,  of  which  he  is  a  living 
witness.  In  both  cases  he  may  quietly  await  the  end  in  the 
consciousness  of  having  done  his  duty  towards  his  country. 

But  let  us  hope  that  the  old  soldier  of  the  civil  war  will  long 
be  a  familiar  figure  in  our  streets,  and  that  by  the  time  he  must 
disappear  from  the  stage  of  the  world  all  the  differences  will  have 
been  long  forgotten  that  once  existed  between  the  blue  and  the 
gray. 


78 


THE  OLD  SOLDIER. 
79 


TRENCH 


HEWING 


81 


FRENCH  CHEWING  CANDY. 

In  no  country  throughout  the  world  is  so  much  candy  con- 
sumed as  in  the  United  States.  Naturally  the  candy  industry  is 
an  important  one,  and  many  tons  of  the  tempting  wares  are  sent 
daily  from  the  centers  of  production  to  all  parts  of  the  Union. 
Many  are  the  forms  in  which  the  dainty  goods  are  offered  to  the 
consumer,  and  each  has  its  admirers.  Who  would  say  that  the 
dirty  street  Arab  does  not  enjoy  his  stick  of  hoarhound  or  his  ani- 
line-dyed taffy  as  much  as  the  daughter  of  the  merchant-prince 
enjoys  her  box  of  candied  violets  or  marone  glace  ? 

It  is  this  fondness  for  sweetmeats  that  makes  the  existence  of 
the  itinerant  vender  of  chewing  candy  possible.  The  chewing 
candy  man  is  in  his  way  as  much  of  a  merchant  as  the  great  dry- 
goods  man.  He  has  to  be  a  student  of  human  nature,  a  psychol- 
ogist and  physiognomist.  He  is  invariably  found  in  the  business 
district,  where  he  occupies  a  lively  corner.  There  he  scans  the 
faces  of  the  passers-by;  and  when  he  sees  a  prospective  customer 
he  utters  his  "  Chewing  candy  !  Fine  fresh  chewing  candy  !" 
He  is  rarely  mistaken,  and  a  nickel  is  the  general  tribute  paid  to 
his  shrewdness.  There  must  be  a  fair  profit  in  the  business,  for 
the  candy  man,  as  a  rule,  looks  happy  ;  or  is  his  sweet  disposition 
perhaps  the  result  of  his  close  contact  with  the  goods  which  he 
bears  on  the  tray  so  near  his  heart  ? 

The  serenity  of  the  candy  man  is  not  easily  disturbed,  but 
sometimes  a  cloud  darkens  his  face.  That  happens  when  business 
on  the  corner  is  brisk,  and  the  burly  policeman  at  the  crossing 
tells  him  to  "  move  on."  Then  he  seeks  new  fields  of  conquest, 
and  soon  his  alluring  voice  may  be  heard  on  the  next  corner  cry- 
ing out,  "  French  chewing  candy  !  Fine,  fresh  chewing  candy!" 


S2 


CHEWING  CANDY. 
83 


PAKIR 


A  FAKIR. 

Three  keen  'thin  ones  of  the  wolf  tribe,'  ready  for  the  day's 
work. 

Spectacles  over  that  sharpest  pair  of  eyes;  a  hat  carefully  bat- 
tered. Blacking  to  sell. 

The  capper  on  the  left;  the  back-capper  on  the  right.  Boys  to 
make  the  beginnings  of  a  crowd. 

If  I  be  greedy,  seeking  for  whom  I  may  devour,  let  me  pass 
quickly  by  this  innocent  three,  this  artful  trio.  They  are  not 
there  to  get  rich  buying  blacking  from  one  another. 

But  if  I  love  my  neighbor  as  myself  I  may  approach.  I  may 
purchase  a  box  of  this  wonderful  product.  I  may  speak  without 
danger.  They  will  show  me  their  shell-game;  they  may  set  to 
work  like  beavers  with  their  cap  and  their  back- cap,  exciting  my 
supposed  desire  to  rob  them.  But  I  have  no  such  desire. 

How  sharp,  how  keen,  how  thin  !  Ages  of  piracy  behind 
them  !  Hereditary  genius  of  robbery  !  The  lean  one  at  the  left, 
how  clumsily  he  gives,  but  you  should  see  how  deftly  he  would 
take  ! 

Into  this  world  is  born  every  minute  a  greedy  fellow  who 
believes  he  could  outwit  these  sinuous,  clean-cut  neat  fakirs  at 
their  own  games.  Here  comes  one  even  now  !  Make  way,  boys; 
let  the  gentleman  see  this  blacking  !  Ah,  yes,  five  cents  out  of 
five  dollars  !  Are  they  not  generous  to  give  him  a  genuine  nickel 
with  his  four  dollars  and  ninety  cents  of  queer  money  ! 

Do  I  dislike  these  birds  of  prev  ?  Ah,  you  ask  a  hard  question ! 
See  yon  eagle  hovering  between  the  crest  of  the  mountain  and 
the  crag  of  cloud  !  There  is  a  goosy-gander  in  the  valley,  plan- 
ning the  fall  of  Aquila,  and  Aquila,  the  eagle,  has  his  unflinching 
eye  fixed  on  something  white  and  long-throated  down  below  ! 


A  FAKIR. 
87 


FRESH,  HOT 

HICKEN  TAMALES 


FRESH,  HOT  CHICKEN-TAMALES ! ! 

To  dive  into  the  mysteries  of  a  Chicken-tamale  !  Have  you 
ever  tried  it  ?  No  ?  Well,  you  must. 

It  is  the  Ambrosia  of  our  Mexican  friend.  Accompanied  by 
pulque,  which  is  his  Nectar,  it  forms  a  meal  which,  in  his  imag- 
ination, the  angels  in  heaven  could  enjoy. 

Perhaps  they  could.  But  I  am  sure  that  to  the  average  Amer- 
ican at  first  trial  a  tamale  seems  more  like  a  foretaste  of  that 
tropic  climate,  a  graphic  description  of  which  has  been  given  us 
by  immortal  Dante,  than  food  for  Cherubim  and  Seraphim. 

And  yet  it  is  delicious,  this  mixture  of  chicken,  olives,  toma- 
toes, cornmeal  and  red  pepper,  if  you  once  get  used  to  it.  Possi- 
bly you  have  to  overcome  a  slight  repugnance  at  the  first  trial, 
but  this  will  be  amply  repaid  by  the  wholesome  effect  of  the 
tamale  on  your  digestive  organs  and  by-and-by  you  will  be  in- 
itiated into  the  toothsome  mysteries  of  this  steaming  bundle  of 
cornhusks.  You  will  come  to  meditate  over  the  insignificance  of 
the  peacock-brains  and  nightingale- tongues  of  the  sybarites  of 
ancient  Rome  as  compared  to  the  gastronomic  value  of  the 
Chicken-tamale,  and  you  will  become  its  proselyte. 

The  tamale-man  or,  more  correct,  the  tamalero,  is  a  new  and 
interesting  type  on  our  thoroughfares;  let  us  welcome  his  advent. 

Long  live  the  tamalero  ! 


90 


FRESH,  HOT  CHICKEN  TAMELESS 
9' 


OI-IN 


JOHN. 

This  is  a  good  picture  of  "John,"  who  is  at  once  a  unique 
and  interesting  character.  I  have  often  thought  that  John,  as  we 
know  him,  is  a  fair  type  of  man  in  his  finished  state.  He  stands 
as  a  living  representation  of  a  civilization  so  old  that  its  origin  is 
lost  in  the  mazes  of  antiquity.  We  can  imagine  him  starting  as 
a  primordial  germ  or  a  protoplasm,  and,  after  ages  of  existence, 
developing  into  the  highest  state  of  civilization,  and  then,  having 
satiated  himself  along  the- line  of  human  achievement,  settled 
back  into  that  simple  yet  truly  philosophical  being  that  we  now 
find  him.  We  may  sneer  at  John's  clothes  and  his  manner  of 
wearing  them;  we  may  ridicule  his  art,  with  its  utter  lack  of  per- 
spective; we  may  deride  customs  that  to  him  are  centuries  old ;  we 
may  deplore  his  lack  of  progress;  but  to  all  this  John  only  smiles 
grimly,  and  with  his  characteristic  philosophy,  briefly,  but  point- 
edly exclaims: 

' '  Melican  man  dam  fool. ' ' 


94 


JOHN. 
95 


MTHE 
I LKMAN 


97 


THE  MILKMAN. 

It  is  early  in  the  morning.  The  dawn  of  the  coming  day  is 
battling  with  the  shadows  of  the  night.  The  streets  of  the  city 
are  empty  and  the  pulse  of  urban  life  is  low.  This  is  the  time  for 
the  milkman.  His  wagon  comes  rattling  down  the  street  or  alley. 
Perhaps  it  wakes  you  from  a  pleasant  slumber  and  you  turn  with 
a  vigorous  expression  towards  the  wall  trying  to  pick  up  the  rup- 
tured thread  of  your  dream.  Don't  curse  the  milkman.  He 
tries  to  make  his  living.  And  he  has  no  easy  road  to  travel 
either.  Summer  and  winter  he  rises  at  the  wee  small  hours  of 
the  morning.  Rain  or  snow,  heat  or  cold  cannot  keep  him  from 
getting  his  supply  of  milk  from  the  earliest  morning  trains. 
From  there  he  makes  the  route  of  his  customers.  His  horse  is  a 
valuable  helpmate  to  him.  It  saves  time.  It  knows  the  streets 
and  alleys  as  well  as  its  master,  and  it  stops  automatically  at  the 
customers'  houses.  It  does  not  need  any  urging,  and  starts  to- 
ward the  house  of  the  next  customer  as  soon  as  it  sees  its  master 
run  down  the  steps  with  the  rattling  cans. 

Mean  people  have  slandered  the  milkman  basely  by  asserting 
that  he  gets  his  lacteous  ware  from  the  hydrant.  That  is  not  so. 
If  the  milk  has  a  bluish  tint  and  looks  a  little  thin  it  is  generally 
the  wily  farmer's  fault.  And  who  could  really  blame  him  if  he 
watered  his  stock  a  little  ?  There  are  others  who  do  the  same. 
Still  they  are  respected.  Why  should  not  we  respect  the  milk- 
man? 


98 


(JDdfB 


RUSHING  THE  GROWLER 

Round- eyed  and  smiling  expectancy  never  had  a  better  illus- 
tration than  that  which  is  furnished  by  the  accompanying  picture 
of  the  toiler  bearing  a"  loaded  ' '  growler. ' '  One  can  almost  see 
his  internal  arrangements  yearning  in  anticipation.  As  plainly 
as  facial  expression  may  be  interpreted,  he  is  remarking  to  him- 
self: "This  'ere  richness  is  outside  of  me  now,  but  you  just 
wait! — Yum,  yum!"  and  his  teeth  close  in  a  tighter  grip  on 
the  briar- wood  pipe,  while  his  disengaged  fist  is  doubled  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  hand  that  clutches  the  bail  of  the  precious  can. 

The  "  growler  "  is  a  cosmopolitan  vessel,  and  it  is  rushed  in 
every  language  that  finds  a  roosting- place  in  America.  It  is  the 
poor  man's  sideboard.  Broad-clothed  and  silk-hatted  sybarites 
may  find  pleasure  in  taking  theirs  over  the  polished  mahogany, 
but  the  horny-fisted  citizen  will  have  none  of  that;  he  takes  his 
1 '  straight ' '  out  of  the  growler. 

Ever}-  saloon  is  a  center  to  which,  through  the  day  and  evening, 
flow  streams  of  empty  pitchers  and  cans,  and  from  which  radiate 
the  same,  filled  to  the  battered  rim  with  cool  amber  liquid,  sur- 
mounted by  a  white  crown  of  yeasty  foam,  tempting  one  to  bury 
his  nose  in  the  sea  of  bubbles  and  let  the  mellow  j  uice  glide  down 
his  gullet  in  long  gurgling  draught,  while  the  overflow  runs  down 
his  beard,  even  as  it  ran  down  the  beard  of  old  Gambrinus. 

In  another  view,  the  "  growler  "  is  a  tiger  with  a  maw  ever 
open  for  the  reception  of  nickels  and  dimes,  and  were  he  not  fed 
so  faithfully,  it  is  barely  possible  the  children  of  the  poor  might 
receive  a  trifle  more  of  education,  their  red  feet  might  not  show 
quite  so  plainly  through  their  ragged  foot-gear,  the  inroads  of 
diphtheria  and  fevers  might  be  better  guarded  against,  and  there 
might  not  be  so  large  a  crop  of  earthen  hillocks  in  the  Paupers' 
Corner  of  the  cemetery.  But  one  Malthus  had  a  serious  thought 
of  weeding  out  the  race,  and  perhaps  we  are  reaching  his  conclu- 
sions by  other  methods. 

102 


RUSHING  THE  GROWLER. 


105 


RAPID  MESSENGER  SERVICE. 

A  white-whiskered  libel  in  the  picture-papers  represents  the 
blue-suited  and  red-trimmed  messenger  boy  as  a  human  snail. 
Illustrated  by  cuts,  he  is  shown  in  youth  receiving  an  important 
message.  An  old  man,  with  bleary  eyes  and  the  gray  of  extreme 
age  on  his  face,  is  seen  returning  fifty  or  sixty  years  afterward 
with  the  answer,  which  is  delivered  to  the  grandson  of  the  sender. 
This  series  of  pictures  embodies  a  malicious  falsehood,  for  the 
messenger  almost  always  gets  back  before  he  reaches  middle  age. 

In  the  popular  mind,  some  business  man  in  an  awful  hurry 
twangs  the  mechanical  jamboozle  in  a  corner  of  his  office,  and  two 
and  a-half  minutes  later  a  winged  Mercury  in  blue  and  red  rushes 
into  the  room.  A  note  is  handed  him,  and  he  dashes  out  with  a 
whoop  and  a  clatter  that  startle  the  whole  neighborhood.  Once 
outside,  the  boy  lets  down  gradually  into  a  trot,  which  subsides 
into  a  walk  that  presently  fetches  him  up  in  front  of  a  theatrical 
bill-board,  where  he  stagnates  in  open-mouthed  admiration  of  the 
pink  and  yellow  attractions  of  a  ballet  troupe.  Then  he  drifts  off 
into  space  and  wanders  about  the  universe  until  he  gets  ready  to 
come  back. 

These  are  popular  errors,  which  have  very  slight  foundation  in 
fact,  for  the  little  fellow  is  a  very  useful  help  in  the  scheme  of 
nineteenth  century  civilization.  At  any  hour  of  the  twenty-four, 
in  fair  weather  and  foul,  the  messenger-boy  may  be  seen  trudging 
with  sturdy  legs  along  the  street;  or  hanging  to  the  tail-end  of  a 
horse-car,  always  with  a  grave  and  sober  sense  of  responsibility 
befitting  his  function  in  the  community,  He  never  slips  into  the 
seductive  opening  of  an  alley  to  pitch  pennies  or  shoot  ' '  craps. ' ' 
As  a  rule  he  is  active  and  reliable,  and  on  the  whole  has  a  higher 
appreciation  of  duty  than  had  the  Judge  who  adjourned  court  to 
look  at  a  dog  fight. 


106 


RAPID  MESSENGER  SERVICE. 
107 


MQSWEEPQ 


109 


STREET  SWEEPER. 

Cleanliness  is  the  virtue  responsible  for  the  production  of  that 
unique  character  called  the  street  sweeper.  He  is  but  another 
cog  in  the  great  wheel  of  civilization,  and  he  moves  in  his  little 
sphere  with  as  much  certainty  as  do  those  charged  with  the  more 
important  affairs  of  life.  When  the  bankers,  the  merchants  or  the 
.lawyers  have  laid  down  the  cares  of  the  day,  the  street-sweeper, 
with  his  luncheon  buckled  to  his  waist,  and  his  broom  over  his 
shoulder,  sallies  forth  to  his  work.  In  the  glare  of  the  electric 
light  he  brushes  up  the  windrows  of  dirt  which  the  machines  have 
laid,  and  his  comrades  with  their  carts  carry  the  refuse  away  to 
the  dump.  A  melancholy  life  he  leads  until  the  approach  of 
election  time.  Then  he  is  a  man  of  importance,  whose  franchise 
is  eagerly  sought  by  the  politicians.  All  of  his  friends  are  given 
work  at  this  time,  and  their  labor  is  made  correspondingly  lighter. 
Then  he  has  time  to  pause  frequently  in  his  work  and  lift  to  his 
lips  the  persuasive  fluid  which  is  furnished  in  abundance  by  the 
political  managers  who  claim  his  allegiance. 


no 


STREET  SWEEPER. 


BEDPIE5!   BEPPIESN 

LACKBEBQIES!! 


BERRIES!  BERRIES!  BLACKBERRIES! 

Here  is  a  type  well  known  to  all 

Who  in  the  busy  city  dwell, 
A  man  of  monumental  gall 

And  gorged  with  strange  conceits  as  well ; 
Each  day  he  hails  you  from  the  street 

If  you  by  chance  but  glance  his  way, 
With  "  Berries  !  berries  !  choice  and  sweet ! 

Here  is  your  fine  ripe  fruit  to-day  !" 

And  tho'  you  coldly  turn  away, 

As  loudly  at  your  door  he  calls, 
He  will  not  let  you  say  him  nay, 

But  lingers  and  more  loudly  bawls. 
You  fix  him  then  with  flashing  eye, 

Your  very  glance  with  rage  replete, 
But  still  goes  up  his  galling  cry, 

"  Fresh  fruit  to-day,  all  sound  and  sweet !  " 

And  still  he  halts  and  warbles  on, 

With  tempting  wares  held  up  to  view, 
At  times  round- glancing,  but  anon 

His  gaze  turned  back  again  on  you  ; 
And  tho'  your  looks  forbid  the  move, 

He  nearer  draws  with  hopeful  mien, 
The  which  does  most  conclusive  prove 

He  thinks  you,  like  his  berries,  green. 

Then  comes  the  rub,  and,  half  inclined, 

Your  heart  his  urgent  plea  beguiles, 
He  draws  you  on,  and  soon  you  find 

Yourself  encompassed  by  his  wiles  ; 
Your  hard-earned  cash  he  gathers  in 

And  to  fresh  conquests  does  depart, 
The  while  you  view,  with  deep  chagrin, 

The  consummation  of  his  art. 


BERRIES!     BERRIES!!     BLACKBERRIES!!! 
"5 


117 


HALLELUJAH  LASSES. 

Perhaps  the  method  does  not  appeal  to  everyone,  but  surely 
the  aim  of  these  Salvation  Army  girls  is  a  noble  one.  What  the 
nurse  in  the  sick  room  is  for  the  body,  any  member  of  the  great 
religious  society  called  ' '  Salvation  Army  ' '  is  for  the  soul.  What 
if  the  use  of  the  tambourine  and  the  drum  is  ridiculed  by  those 
who  do  not  take  the  trouble  to  look  beyond  the  surface  !  The 
end  justifies  the  means;  and  there  is  no  denying  that  the  Salva- 
tion Army  has  achieved  commendable  results.  Go  into  the  dingy 
quarters  of  the  poor,  visit  the  grimy  streets  of  the  tenement  dis- 
tricts, and  you  will  find  the  self-sacrificing  soldier  of  the  Lord  in 
the  thick  of  the  battle,  not  only  against  Satan,  the  arch-enemy  of 
the  soul,  but  against  those  mighty  foes  of  humanity:  vice,  drunk- 
enness, filth,  and  other  forms  of  moral  degeneracy.  Doughty 
warriors  they  are,  even  if  frail  of  body,  and  the  souls  they  have 
snatched  from  moral  perdition,  the  human  beings  they  have 
saved  from  utter  despair,  number  in  the  thousands. 

It  is,  therefore,  a  matter  of  congratulation  for  the  world  in 
general  to  see  the  growing  influence  of  this  Church  militant  in 
the  quarters  where  moral  improvement  is  most  desirable. 
Whether  they  call  themselves  "  Salvation  Army  "  or  "American 
Volunteers  "  is  a  matter  of  small  importance;  and  if  their  method 
sometimes  elicits  a  smile  even  from  a  sympathizer,  let  it  not 
be  a  reason  to  withhold  our  approval  of  the  work  to  which  our 
"Hallelujah  Lasses"  have  bravely  devoted  their  whole  energy 
and  life. 


118 


HALLELUJAH  LASSES. 
1*9 


DLJ  O  H 


121 


TOUGH. 

He  dreamed  he  was  a  hero.  He  was  not  born  in  the  purple. 
He  longed  for  leadership,  as  did  Caesar  or  Napoleon,  but  his 
horizon  was  narrow.  He  was  not  taught,  but  he  did  his  best. 
He  could  not  conquer  provinces,  but  he  could  whip  the  other 
thug. 

He  is  not  a  "  thug  "  altogether.  His  nose  is  good,  his  ear  is 
good,  his  features  are  clean-cut,  and  he  might  fight  for  a  friend. 
Undoubtedly  he  is  too  aggressive.  Undoubtedly  he  has  brutal 
class  prejudices.  But  had  he  been  educated,  had  he  been  taught 
finer  things — wouldn't  he  have  made  a  good  figure  in  a  dress  suit, 
and  might  he  not  have  led  the  battle  in  the  Blank  district  con- 
gressional struggle  ? 

Is  not  the  ' '  tough  ' '  but  the  Man  we  all  like — lacking  only 
modern  wisdom  ? 


122 


125 


ACCORDION    PLAYER. 

Here  we  have  one  of  those  types  of  street  life  which  the 
thoughtless  throng  passes  by  unheedingly,  and  yet  one  which  fur- 
nishes food  for  thought,  serious  thought.  All  the  way  from 
sunny,  vine-clad  Italy  she  came,  from  a  country  where  the  very 
air,  like  an  ^Solian  harp,  vibrates  with  music;  whose  every  foot  of 
soil  reeks  with  history ;  whose  people  have  a  greater  past  than  any 
other  living  nation.  But  alas!  it  is  also  a  country  which  for  cen- 
turies has  been  down-trodden,  overrun  by  lusty  barbarians,  and 
overridden  by  the  steed  of  the  conqueror.  A  poverty-stricken 
country,  whose  rich  natural  resources  lie  fallow,  Italy,  the  sleep- 
ing beauty,  just  awakened  from  her  dream  of  a  thousand  years, 
and  still  rubbing  her  eyes  wondringly  at  the  enormous  strides  for- 
ward which  all  her  neighbors  have  made. 

And  from  that  home,  beautiful  but  starving,  this  swarthy 
stranger  woman  has  come  to  these  hospitable  shores.  A  strolling 
musician,  vagabondism  is  in  her  blood.  The  hard  life  she  has 
ever  led  since  she  was  weaned  has  left  its  indelible  stamp  on 
her.  Straggling,  unkempt  hair,  low  forehead,  prominent  cheek 
bones,  and  eyes  that  glimmer  like  half-extinct  charcoal,  she 
would  do  as  a  model  for  the  witch  of  Endor.  But  though  repul- 
sive in  looks,  and  though  she  uses  her  accordion  as  an  instrument 
of  torture  on  an  indulgent  public,  producing  nothing  but  shrill, 
discordant  sounds,  the  woman  crops  out  in  one  spot  at  least. 
What  Goethe  calls  the  ' !  eternal  womanly  ' '  sh  ows  itself  in  the 
child — the  bright-eyed,  roguish  little  imp,  the  ' '  bambino  caris- 
simo ' '  of  this  hag.  L,ike  an  Indian  squaw  she  carries  her  pappoose, 
performing  her  labor  all  day  long  with  this  burden  on  her  back, 
twanging  her  accordion,  begging  and  wheedling,  the  mother  love 
is  there,  nevertheless.  That  is  the  one  green  spot  in  her  life,  the 
oasis  in  the  desert  of  her  heart.  And  let  us  hope  that  the  little 
devil-may  -care  fellow  on  her  sturdy  back  one  day  may  grow  up  to 
be  an  independent,  stalwart  American  boy. 


126 


ACCORDION  PLAYKR. 
127 


NICE 

EWHER  DUSTERS 


I29 


FEATHER  DUSTERS. 

Stores  and  office-buildings  are  the  favorite  hunting  grounds 
of  the  feather-duster  man,  or  to  be  more  correct,  the  feather- 
duster  boy;  for  as  a  rule  the  profession  recruits  itself  from  the 
ranks  of  boys  and  very  young  men.  He  is  a  polite  fellow,  but  at 
the  same  time  he  is  persistent.  Yet  his  persistency  is  not  of  the 
offensive  kind.  His  invitation  to  buy  nice  turkey  feather-dusters 
is  uttered  in  such  modest  and  submissive  tones  that  should  he  even 
repeat  it  several  times  at  your  decided  refusal,  it  is  impossible  for 
you  to  get  angry  at  the  fellow.  He  looks  at  you  so  appealingly 
as  he  offers  his  wares  that  you  cannot  help  getting  interested  in 
him.  Perhaps  you  may  think  that  a  feather-duster  is  a  superflu- 
ous article.  You  never  had  one,  and  do  not  care  to  have  one. 
But  you  can  not  escape  him.  His  eagle  eye  is  quick  to  detect  the 
layer  of  dust  on  your  cabinet  file  or  your  office  desk,  and  he  will 
call  your  attention  to  that  fact  by  drawing  fantastic  figures  in  the 
dust  with  his  forefinger,  until  you  come  to  recognize  the  absolute 
necessity  of  investing  half  a  dollar  in  a  feather-duster. 

The  feather-duster  boy  is  a  type  very  similar  to  the  little  match 
pedlar.  He  is  generally  a  Hebrew,  and  has  all  the  characteristics 
of  that  thrifty  race.  He  is  saving  and  always  on  the  lookout  for 
a  favorable  chance  to  invest  his  small  savings  where  they  will 
bring  him  the  best  returns.  His  vocation  is  only  a  temporary  one. 
He  wants  to  be  a  merchant,  and  does  not  expect  to  sell  feather- 
dusters  all  his  life.  The  evolution  is,  perhaps,  slow,  but  it  is  sure, 
for  he  has  the  necessary  get-up  to  insure  success. 


130 


FEATHER  DUSTKRS! 


133 


THE  POPCORN  MAN. 

"  Popcorn,  salt  and  sugared  popcorn.  One  bag  for  a  nickel, 
two  for  a  dime  !" 

The  above  refrain  sung  in  a  shrill,  yet  not  wholly  unmusical 
key,  always  makes  the  children's  eyes  sparkle  with  delight  and 
expectation  ;  while  the  parent  who  will  take  his  little  ones  by  the 
popcorn-stand  without  buying  for  them  a  bag  of  the  sweet,  old- 
fashioned  and  toothsome  edible  can  hardly  be  said  to  understand 
children  as  well  as  he  should.  He  must  have  forgotten  his  own 
childhood  days. 

The  popcorn  man  is  certainly  a  good  fellow.  It  is  almost  al- 
ways safe  to  say  that  a  man  whom  the  children  like,  even  if  they 
do  have  to  pay  for  the  pleasure  he  gives  them,  must  have  some 
good  traits  about  him.  He  shows,  too,  by  his  calling  that  he  is 
possessed  to  some  extent  at  least  of  that  commercial  shrewdness 
which  forms  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the  make-up  of  our  great 
merchants. 

Success,  then,  to  the  popcorn  merchant  whenever  by  his  own 
industry  and  honesty  he  deserves  it.  Let  us  all  patronize  him, 
and  ourselves  live  over  again  our  youthful  experiences  by  helping 
the  ' '  little  men  and  women  ' '  to  enjoy  the  same  pleasures  that  we 
used  to  dote  so  fondly  upon  in  the  days  now  long  gone  by. 


134 


THE  POPCORN  MAX. 
'35 


fflOOLGIBLS 


SCHOOLGIRLS. 

What  brighter,  sunnier  than  a  bevy  of  American  school  girls  ? 
How  happy  they  are  !  L,ife  to  them  seems  as  yet  a  perennial 
picnic.  Can't  you  read  their  love  of  fun  in  their  smiling  eyes? 
The  tricks  they  are  sure  to  play  at  school  to-day;  the  saucy 
answer  to  rude  boys  that  one  can  read  on  their  half-parted  lips  ! 
And  yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  affectionate  nature  they  show,  and 
the  entire  absence  of  all  affectation  ! 

They're  a  healthy  type  of  our  shifting,  many-tongued  street 
life.  No  schoolgirls  in  the  universe  are  jollier,  cleverer,  more 
ambitious  or  nicer  than  are  our  American  girls.  Romping  with 
the  boys,  coasting  and  skating  with  the  best  of  them,  trundling 
their  hoops  with  the  speed  and  agility  of  greyhounds,  and  playing 
lawn  tennis  till  their  young  backs  ache,  they  are  yet  thoroughly 
girlish — though  not  what  one  of  them  termed  ' '  girly  girls. ' ' 
Try  them  at  flirting — yes,  even  the  girls  in  the  short  frocks — 
and  you'll  soon  find  there's  a  heap  of  pure  femininity  concealed 
about  their  slender  anatomy.  But  try  them  also  with  their  books, 
to  be  fair  about  it.  You'll  find,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  they 
know  more  than  boys  of  the  same  age.  They  can  jump  and  play, 
run  and  catch  ball,  but  they  can  also  sit  at  home  and  "  do  "  a 
heap  more  difficult  mathematics  than  Jack  and  Will,  their  stur- 
dier playmates.  Take  it  altogether,  our  American  schoolgirls 
are  made  of  pretty  good  stuff,  the  stuff  which  makes  good  wives 
and  good  mothers,  good  breadwinners  and  true  mates.  Nowhere 
else  in  this  broad  land  of  ours  will  the  future  American  of  the 
feminine  gender  show  forth  more  gloriously  than  right  here. 


138 


SCHOOLGIRLS. 
139 


ANA  PEDDlfR 


141 


BANANA  PEDDLER. 

A  degenerated  descendant  of  the  ancient  people  of  Rome  or 
Sparta,  the  swarthy  banana  pedlar  pushes  his  cart  contentedly 
through  the  thoroughfares  of  the  city.  No  thoughts  of  the  an- 
cient glory  of  his  nation  disturbs  his  mind  when  he  cries  out  his 
'•  Ba-na-nos  !  Ba-na-nos  !  !"  He  is  not  sentimental.  He  is  bent 
on  making  his  profit,  and  the  commercial  instinct  is  far  more  de- 
veloped in  him  than  that  warlike  spirit  which  predominated  in  his 
ancestors.  The  banana  cart  is  the  war-chariot  behind  which  he 
fights  his  battle  of  life.  The  few  paltry  dimes  which  form  the 
profits  of  a  day  are  to  him  perhaps  as  much  as  the  spoils  of  a  vic- 
torious battle  were  for  one  of  his  progenitors. 

Indeed,  Rome  and  Sparta  have  fallen.  The  ancient  soil  does 
not  even  grant  a  sufficient  living  to  the  descendants  of  Lycurgus 
and  Scipio.  The  new  world  is  the  Mecca  towards  which  their 
steps  are  now  directed,  and  in  America  they  find  what  the  mother 
country  denies  them — a  chance  in  the  battle  of  life — a  chance  for 
a  living. 

The  banana  pedlar  is  not  a  bad  citizen.  He  is  peaceful  and 
saving.  Though  his  surroundings  in  the  quarters  which  he  in- 
habits are  not  of  the  most  elevating  kind,  yet  he  is  able  to  rise 
above  them.  Not  all  banana  pedlars  ere  destined  to  become  rich, 
but  their  thrift  and  industry  are  essential  factors  in  the  amassing 
of  a  small  competence,  sufficient  for  their  modest  requirements, 
when  the  cart  gets  too  heavy  too  push'  and  the  legs  too  slow  to 
follow. 


142 


THE 


OALMAN 


145 


THE  COAL  MAN. 

A  type  strictly  belonging  to  the  poorest  tenement  districts  of 
a  large  city.  Many  a  lady,  living  midst  wealth  and  luxury, 
looking  at  the  picture,  might  doubt  the  existence  of  pedjsle 
who  sell  coal  by  the  bushel.  Just  think  of  it  !  Coal  by  the 
bushel !  Are  there  people  poor  enough  to  be  compelled  to  buy 
coal  in  such  small  quantities  ?  Indeed  there  are;  and  many  thou- 
sands besides  who  cannot  afford  to  buy  it  at  all.  You  can  see 
them  follow  the  wagons  to  pick  up  falling  pieces  of  coal;  you 
can  see  them  search  every  inch  of  ground  in  the  railroad  yards 
for  the  black  diamonds,  which  are  diamonds  to  them  indeed. 

Warmth  is  life,  and  poor  people  cling  to  life  with  the  same 
tenacity  as  millionaires.  So  they  must  have  coal  in  winter  to 
keep  out  the  icy  drafts  from  their  damp  and  dingy  rooms.  To 
these  people  the  coal  man,  who  sells  his  goods  by  the  bushel  and 
who  sometimes  even  grants  a  little  credit,  is  a  boon.  He  is  one 
of  the  most  welcome  figures  in  that  terrible  maelstrom  of  poverty, 
the  poor  tenement  district.  He  is  honest;  perhaps  as  much  by 
choice  as  by  necessity,  for  it  is  not  easy  to  cheat  a  customer  who 
buys  coal  by  the  bushel.  The  coal  man  himself  only  ekes  out  a 
precarious  living,  but  he  must  feel  contented  when  he  compares 
his  existence  with  the  abject  misery  which  he  witnesses  every  day 
of  his  life.  If  he  were  a  novelist  what  dreadful  pictures  of  human 
suffering  he  could  unroll.  He  could,  as  an  eye  witness,  tell  these 
who  live  in  abundance  that  there  are  human  beings  who  starve 
for  the  want  of  a  crust  of  bread,  and  whose  limbs  get  numbed  for 
the  want  of  fuel.  But  the  coal  man  is  not  a  novelist.  Maybe  he 
thinks  a  great  deal  about  what  he  sees.  But  he  does  not  say 
much.  Perhaps  it  is  better  so. 


146 


THE  COALMAN. 
U7 


CJS50R5! 


149 


SCISSORS. 

One  of  the  types  that  haunt  the  residence  parts  of  the  city  in 
preference  to  the  business  district  is  the  scissors-grinder.  He  is 
generally  an  Italian,  though  other  nationalities  also  contribute  to 
this  "sharp"  profession.  The  scissors-grinder  is  a  man  who  is 
always  welcome  to  the  cook,  who,  if  she  happens  to  be  a  daughter 
of  Erin,  will  for  the  moment  forget  her  innate  prejudice  against 
the  "  Eyetalian  "  and  intrust  her  dull  knives  to  his  care.  Whether 
he  carries  his  apparatus  on  his  back  or  pushes  it  before  him  on 
wheels,  his  mind  reverting  to  his  sunny  home  or  to  his  native 
maccaroni  pots,  his  brown  hand  does  not  tire  of  swinging  the 
bell  with  which  he  reminds  our  housewives  of  a  dull  carving-knife 
or  a  rusty  pair  of  scissors.  The  boys  also  welcome  him  and  are 
interested  spectators  during  the  process  of  putting  an  edge  on  the 
pocket-knives  which  Santa  Claus  had  brought  them  last  Christ- 
mas. What  a  pleasure  it  is  for  the  children  to  stand  around  that 
spark-emitting  grindstone  !  They  don't  disturb  the  taciturn 
Italian,  who  grinds  away  with  the  stoical  equanimity  of  a  Marc 
Aurelius  until  he  tests  the  edge  with  his  horny  thumb  and  de- 
mands his  ten  or  "  fifteen  centi." 

The  scissors-grinder  likes  America,  but  not  always  enough  to 
be  willing  to  die  here.  His  ambition  is  to  save  a  few  hundred 
dollars — if  possible  more — with  which  to  return  to  his  sunny 
country.  There,  on  the  beautiful  plains  of  the  Lombardy  or  in 
the  picturesque  mountains  of  Calabria  he  will  enjoy  the  eve  of  his 
life  with  plenty  of  polcuta  and  maccaroni.  Mayhaps  he  will  look 
compassionately  at  the  poor  Lazzaroni  in  Naples,  compared  to 
whom,  he  imagines  himself  a  Croesus. 


150 


ILL  pOSTED 


153 


THE  BILL  POSTER. 

He  is  certainly  a  nuisance,  and  this  is  probably  the  reason 
why  the  bill  poster  generally  avoids  the  bright  light  of  day  and 
does  his  work  either  at  night  or  during  the  earliest  morning 
hours.  The  bill  poster  is  essentially  a  product  of  American  adver- 
tising methods.  The  craft  is  almost  unknown  on  the  European 
continent.  But  then  the  poor  European  is  way  back  in  art-edu- 
cation. He  does  not  appreciate  the  beauties  of  a  fifty-yard-circus 
advertisement  on  the  walls  of  a  building  or  on  the  fence  around 
an  empty  lot.  He  has  no  understanding  of  how  one  can  improve 
the  natural  beauty  of  a  romantic  dell  by  judiciously  placing  a 
tooth  powder  or  soap-ad  on  the  most  prominent  rocks  and  bowl- 
ders. 

The  bill  poster  is  a  native  of  the  large  cities,  but  he  may  be 
found  during  the  summer  seasons  at  the  smaller  towns  and  vil- 
lages where  he  industriously  plasters  walls  and  fences,  the  most 
effective  advance  agent  of  the  many-ringed  circus  and  the  barn- 
storming dramatic  show.  It  cannot  be  said  that  he  has  no  ad- 
mirers at  all.  Should  he  be  seen  in  daytime  with  brush  and  pail 
in  hand,  poster  sheets  slung  over  the  shoulder,  he  is  followed  by  a 
crowd  of  inquisitive  children  who  eagerly  watch  him  roll  up  sheet 
after  sheet,  until  their  delight  knows  no  bounds  when  the  com- 
pleted work  shows  all  the  animals  of  Noah's  ark,  or  the  most 
stirring  scenes  in  the  blood-curdling  border  tragedy:  "  The  mys- 
tery of  Dead  Man's  Gulch  !  "  But  the  bill  poster  is  nevertheless 
an  unmitigated  nuisance,  and  his  existence  ought  to  be  forgiven 
him  only  for  the  occasional  delight  he  furnishes  the  children. 


154 


BIIJy  POSTER. 
155 


UTASTBOLL 


15? 


OUT  FOR  A  STROLL. 

She  has  just  finished  her  frugal  luncheon  in  the  small,  dingy 
office -room  where  she  is  employed  as  stenographer  and  typewriter, 
and  the  warm  sun  shines  so  invitingly  through  the  open  windows 
that  she  decides  to  utilize  her  noon  hour  by  taking  a  little  walk. 

She  is  pretty,  and  as  she  trips  gracefully  through  the  bustling 
crowd,  daintily  lifting  her  dress  with  a  neatly  gloved  hand,  many 
admiring  glances  follow  her. 

Here  and  there  she  recognizes  an  acquaintance,  but  she  does 
not  stop. 

Now  she  reaches  a  crowded  corner  and  passes  the  gauntlet  of 
young  dudes  and  old  Lotharios,  who  congregate  there  to  review 
female  pedestrians;  but  she  does  not  seem  to  be  annoyed,  and 
rather  enjoys  the  attention  which  her  appearance  has  attracted. 

If  we  are  not  mistaken,  she  even  smiles  as  she  turns  a  side 
glance  at  a  handsome  young  fellow. 

She  knows  it  is  wrong  to  flirt — for  it  was  only  last  Sunday 
that  her  pastor  had  warned  his  young  flock,  in  a  very  elaborate 
sermon,  against  the  sin  of  flirting — but  then  it  is  such  pleasant 
pastime,  and  she  will  not  do  so  again — till  to-morrow,  for  it  is  one 
o'clock,  and  duty  calls  her  to  the  desk. 


158 


OUT  FOR  A  STROLL. 
159 


HTHEDE! 


T 


161 


AH  THERE ! 

We  see  him  every  day,  we  see  him  everywhere,  we  meet 
him  on  the  streets,  in  the  parks,  in  hotels,  theaters,  and  we  see 
him  even  in  church. 

We  know  him,  we  know  him  well;  and  still — how  is  it  that 
natural  science  has  not  taken  any  notice  of  him,  though  his  ex- 
istence has  been  proved  for  the  last  two  or  three  centuries  ? 

No  Buff  on,  no  Brehm  has  ever  attempted  to  describe  his 
haunts,  his  habits  or  his  mode  of  living;  nobody  has  ever  thought 
of  classifying  him. 

Yet  he  is  an  interesting  subject,  and  his  study  would  well  re- 
pay the  trouble  of  profound  and  scientific  research. 

A  native  of  larger  cities,  his  beauty,  his  cleanly  habits  and 
docile  manners  have  fitted  him  eminently  for  a  ladies'  pet,  and 
nature  has  provided  him  with  the  necessary  instinct  to  recognize 
his  destiny,  for  wherever  we  meet  him,  he  is  trying  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  fair  sex. 

"Is  he  successful  in  that?  If  not,  it  isn't  his  fault,  for  his  per- 
severance in  lounging  on  street  corners,  in  front  of  theaters,  etc. , 
is  simply  marvelous,  and  well  deserves  the  coveted  reward. 

And  then,  isn't  he  irresistible? 

His  symmetrical  form  clad  according  to  the  latest  fashion 
plate,  his  statuesque  poses  and  his  winning  smile  are  the  danger- 
ous weapons  that  conquer  the  hearts  of  the  fair  damsels  who  are 
careless  enough  to  cast  a  glance  at  this  modern  Antinous. 

As  he  stands  twirling  his  handsome  mustache  in  a  wonder- 
fully artistic  pose  of  attention,  his  intelligent  eyes  beaming  kindly 
admiration,  every  inch  a  dude,  he  is  well  excusable  if  he  believes 
in  the  truthfulness  of  his  device: 

' '  Veni,  vidi,  vici. ' ' 


162 


AH  THERE ! 
163 


fitBUND  DEflQAR 


165 


THE  BLIND  BEGGAR. 

Unlike  King  Oedipus  of  mythical  fame,  this  old  man  has  not 
voluntarily  robbed  himself  of  the  blessings  of  sight  to  reconcile 
the  anger  of  the  gods — nay,  a  plain  everyday  accident  has  de- 
prived him  of  that  inestimable  gift  of  nature,  and  enveloped  in 
darkness  he  wanders  through  life,  a  burden  to  himself,  a  burden 
to  others. 

He  has  no  memories  of  past  greatness.  He  does  not  find  con- 
solation in  the  thought  that  such  self-inflicted  punishment  will 
atone  for  his  crime  and  appease  the  wrath  of  the  deities. 

He  has  nothing  to  atone  for.  No  Antigone  guides  his  steps 
with  loving  hand — only  a  hired  boy  is  leading  him  by  his  empty 
coat-sleeve  from  house  to  house. 

He  is  simply  a  blind  beggar.  The  Eumenides  will  not  have 
to  conceal  his  burial  place.  A  pauper's  grave  in  an  obscure  cor- 
ner of  a  cemetery  will  effectually  hide  his  remains  and  nobody 
will  look  for  them,  for  he  was  only — a  blind  beggar. 

Blind  !  O  Fates,  of  all  the  evils  you  have  in  store  for  human- 
ity, this  is  the  most  unkind  ! 


166 


THE  BUND  BEGGAR. 
167 


P^TIDDH 


169 


HARP  AND  FIDDLE. 

Toss  them  a  nickel.  If  they  are  not  earning  it,  they  are  hon- 
estly trying  to,  which  amounts  to  pretty  much  the  same  thing. 
Perhaps  you  are  not  striving  so  conscientiously  to  earn  your 
salary  as  these  two  fellows  are,  to  give  a  full  equivalent  for 
the  nickel  they  expect  to  get.  The  violinist,  sure  enough,  is 
not  a  Sarasate,  and  the  harpist  does  not  play  heaven's  favorite 
instrument  with  a  maestro 's  hand,  nor  does  he  sing  like  Tamagrio. 
But  why  be  too  particular?  They  are  natural  born  musicians, 
and  something  is  due  to  genius.  Moreover,  when  we  open  the 
pocket-book  wide  enough  to  let  out  a  nickel  for  a  street  musician, 
the  heart  opens  a  little  at  the  same  time,  and  a  recompense  of 
God's  golden  sunshine  flows  into  the  bosom. 

A  queer  life  these  fellows  lead.  On  warm  summer  mornings 
they  play  and  sing  out  in  the  back  yard.  If  you  live  in  the  city, 
you  may  have  heard  them  when  you  were  half  awake,  and  very 
beautiful  their  music  sounded  at  such  a  time.  In  the  summer 
afternoons  they  seek  the  back  streets,  and  lure  a  bevy  of  children 
around  them  in  the  shade.  In  the  winter  they  play  in  saloons  or 
wherever  experience  has  taught  them  that  they  will  not  be  un- 
welcome. It  goes  without  saying  that  the  children  are  their 
chief  admirers.  Much  pleasure  they  give  the  little  ones,  and 
many  a  penny  they  pick  up  at  their  open-air  rehearsals.  Penni- 
less children  listen  free.  The  thoughtful  man  who  happens  to 
run  across  the.se  peripatetic  minstrels  W7ill  relax  his  brow  for  a 
moment  and  dream  of  the  time  when  such  music  gave  him  more 
pleasure  than  he  can  get  to-day  from  the  most  artistic  perform- 
ances. Perhaps  if  he  is  rich  and  careworn  he  may  even  go  so  far 
as  to  exclaim: 

Swarth  minstrels  of  the  city  street 
Play  on,  your  noisy  tunes  repeat; 
Once  more  to  deem  such  music  sweet 
I'd  toss  my  fortune  at  your  feet ! 


170 


HARP  AND  FIDDLE. 
171 


•AGPICKERS 


173 


RAG  PICKERS, 

Born  in  streets  that  "echoed  to  the  tread  of  either  Brutus," 
under  the  wall-shadows  that  have  fallen  on  a  Caesar's  triumphal 
march,  beneath  a  sun  that  could  not  find  a  foe  for  Romans — born 
so,  but  in  a  later  day  when  alien  blood  has  sunk  a  race  of  war- 
riors— this  last  residuum  in  Time's  great  goblet  that  once  brimmed 
over  with  the  best  of  earth ,  these  ancient  crones  have  wandered 
from  the  Old  world  to  glean  a  living  from  the  refuse  of  the  New.  The 
dames  of  ancient  Rome — the  garbage  barrels  of  an  American  city  ! 
There  is  the  satire  of  the  centuries.  The  stylus  that  painfully  en- 
grossed the  learning  of  that  day  has  swept  across  the  page  of  Time 
with  swiftly  growing  speed,  till  lightning  presses  end  the  cycle  of 
improvement.  And  these  old  crones,  dark  fishing  in  the  dawn,  dig 
up  the  crumpled  leaves:  "  Decline  and  Fall!"  Shall  any  ma- 
tron, proud  of  present  empire,  live  in  lines  to  be  digged  out  of 
dust-bins  in  that  brighter  age  when  our  descendants,  sunk  to 
slaves,  shall  crouch  and  shiver  in  the  noisome  ways  ?  Is  there 
a  city  somewhere  hid  in  Earth  and  Time  through  whose  dim 
alleys  Columbia's  final  son  shall  grope  inferior  for  food  ?  Why 
not  ?  Did  the  Tigris  promise  less  ?  Do  our  streams  promise  more  ? 
Where  stood  the  fate  that  crushed  the  kings  of  earth  ?  What  fate 
for  us  lies  crouching  in  the  twilight — centuries  away  ? 


174 


RAG-PICKKRS. 
175 


MANGP1NDED 


177 


THE  ORGAN  GRINDER. 

The  blue-bird  and  the  organ  grinder  are  the  harbingers  of 
spring.  Although  it  has  become  the  fashion  to  speak  slightingly 
of  the  latter,  yet  his  quaint  manner  and  unpretentious  instrument 
are  the  source  of  much  quiet  enjoyment.  Who  has  not  at  some 
time  been  carried  away  on  a  creamy  sea  of  recollection  by  a  half- 
forgotten  melody  winding  itself  out  of  the  twisted  throat  of  a 
hand-organ  ?  Only  a  decade  ago  light  operas  were  the  fashion 
and  the  streets  were  merry  with  their  melodies.  The  boot  black 
whistled  their  catchy  airs  to  the  early  morning,  and  the  weary 
pedestrian  quickened  his  steps  at  the  sound  of  their  inspiring 
measures.  The  gray  bearded  man  of  affairs  hummed  them  softly 
between  the  coming  and  going  of  customers  in  his  office;  the  pink 
and  dimpled  baby  in  the  crib  sank  into  restful  slumber,  soothed 
by  their  rhythmical  cadences.  But  more  pretentious,  if  less  mu- 
sical, compositions  have  laid  hold  of  the  public's  fancy,  and  these 
touching  bits  of  harmony,  once  so  familiar  to  our  every-day  life, 
are  heard  no  more: 

"  In  the  rush  and  roar  of  sound, 

Every  melody  is  drowned." 

Even  the  street  bands  have  left  off  playing  Hayes  and  Root  to 
toot  Volkmann  and  Wagner.  The  organ-grinder  alone  clings  to 
the  tripping  valse  of  Strauss — he  alone  soothes  our  restless  spirits 
with  Annie  Laurie — awakens  us  to  new  endeavor  with  the  stir- 
ring Marseillaise.  He  comes  to  us  with  the  songs  we  used  to 
love  in  the  long  ago;  the  songs  that  will  be  sweet  to  us  always, 
because  one  who  was  dear  to  us  loved  and  sang  them  when  the 
day  was  growing  misty  and  dim  in  the  twilight,  Blessings  on 
the  organ  grinder  !  He  is  the  children's  friend,  and  his  much- 
abused  instrument  — what  a  storehouse  of  precious  memories  it 
is,  after  all  ! 


178 


ORGAN-GRINDER. 
•79 


MUM  FAMILY 


181 


A  MUSICAL  FAMILY. 

Although  the  commanding  influence  of  music  has  long  been 
recognized,  yet  the  path  of  musicians  is  to-day  by  no  means  free 
from  thorns.  The  musical  family  in  our  picture  is  at  times  subjected 
to  severe  criticism.  It  is  not  their  fault,  they  try  to  please  all. 
Some  keys  of  their  instruments  are  made  to  play,  for  the  delecta- 
tion of  lovers  of  music,  while  others  emit  no  sound, — a  concession 
to  the  opposing  faction ;  and  this  division  is  made  with  a  commend- 
able impartiality.  Criticism  does  not  deter  them  ;  their  ancestors, 
playing  the  identical  instruments,  encountered  the  same  opposition. 

It  is  true  these  objections  are  not  always  unfounded.  It  is 
perhaps  but  reasonable  to  limit  a  performance  to  one  composition 
at  a  time,  and  that  one  to  be  played  by  all  the  artists.  Again,  one 
of  the  players  should  be  empowered  to  make  a  selection  for  all. 
This  plan,  faithfully  executed,  will  remove  all  uncertainty  as  to 
the  production  rendered.  The  claim  that  a  musical  instrument 
should  be  recognizable  by  its  sound,  independently  of  its  shape,  is 
not  without  some  force.  And  discords  should  not,  as  a  class,  be 
favored.  But  the  errors  indicated,  when  they  occur,  are  not  in- 
tentional, and  all  reasonable  efforts  are  made  to  rectify  them. 
The  places  of  notes,  almost  as  soon  as  their  omission  is  discov- 
ered, are  supplied  by  other  notes,  designed  to  subserve  the  com- 
poser's purpose, 

In  this  family,  we  see  a  fair  distribution  of  labor.  The  babe 
provides  the  vocal,  the  older  children  supply  the  instrumental 
music,  while  the  mother  wields  the  baton, — particularly  useful  at 
rehearsals. 

The  sirens  who  sought,  with  music,  to  lure  Ulysses  to  his 
doom ,  did  not  utilize  the  instruments  empk^ed  by  this  family, 
and  their  efforts  were  a  conspicuous  failure. 


1S2 


A  MUSICAL  FAMILY. 


MINE! 


185 


SHINE! 

The  little  fellow  who  bears  the  traces  of  his  vocation  on  his 
dirty  cheek  is  down  on  his  knees  to  lend  a  new  lustre  to  a  pair  of 
shoes  that  have  evidently  outgrown  their  period  of  usefulness. 
With  the  characteristic  ' '  get  there  ' '  of  the  American  street  Arab 
he  is  certain  to  succeed  in  his  undertaking.  The  American  boot- 
black excells  in  his  art,  but  the  type  is  doomed  to  disappear  from 
the  streets  of  the  great  cities.  While  he  may,  as  yet,  occasionally 
be  found  in  groups,  hanging  around  the  street  corners,  uttering 
his  shrill  cry,  "Shine!"  he  is  like  the  proverbial  policeman, — 
generally  not  to  be  found  when  wanted.  May  be  he  is  getting 
discouraged.  From  a  dime  which  used  to  be  the  compensation 
for  a  shine  not  many  years  ago,  the  price  has  dropped  to  a  nickel. 
The  competition  by  ' '  wholesalers ' '  who  run  basements  or  other 
suitable  apartments  as  ' '  fine  art  boot-blacking  parlors ' '  together 
with  their  drop  of  prices,  has  a  tendency  to  drive  the  familiar  and 
picturesque  boy,  with  brush  and  footrest  slung  over  his  shoulder, 
from  the  streets.  He  would  be  sorely  missed,  for  his  appearance 
has  everywhere  a  gladdening  effect. 

The  bootblack,  no  matter  of  what  nationality,  is  always  good- 
humored,  fond  of  mischief  and  practical  joking.  Though  he 
dearly  loves  to  fight  he  does  not  do  it  out  of  viciousness,  but 
simply  in  an  exuberance  of  spirits  seeking  an  outlet.  He  invar- 
iably has  sporting  proclivities,  and  there  is  quite  a  different  ring 
in  his  voice  when  he  has  occasion  to  cry  out  an  "  Extra!  all  about 
the  prize  fight ! ' '  For  he  often  combines  the  profession  of  a  boot- 
black with  that  of  a  newsboy.  He  knows  all  about  the  fistic 
heroes  of  the  world,  and  the  names  of  John  L.  Sullivan,  Jim 
Corbett.  or  Bob  Fitzsimmons,  are  more  familiar  and  dearer  to  him 
than  those  of  George  Washington  and  Abraham  Lincoln.  Not 
that  he  lacks  patriotism.  But  he  appreciates  valor.  His  weak- 
ness is  ' '  craps  ' '  and  when  he  is  indulging  in  his  favorite  pastime 
at  the  mouth  of  a  dark  alley — when  the  ' '  cop  "  is  at  the  other 
end  of  his  beat — it  is  hard  to  call  him  back  to  the  scene  of  his 
duty. 


SHINE 

187 


ICEMAN 


189 


THE  ICEMAN. 

As  here  portrayed,  the  iceman  is  a  very  serious  personage. 
Though  he  does  not  neglect  his  duties  as  a  carrier,  his  eyes  are 
gazing  onward,  and  his  thoughts  are  evidently  far  away.  It  is 
not  difficult  to  guess  the  burden  of  his  ruminations.  "  If , "  thinks 
he,  "it  is  possible  to  adopt  a  vast  lake  as  a  stock  in  trade,  employ 
nature,  an  unsalaried  agent,  to  crystallize  its  waters  by  the  ton, 
and,  with  my  aid,  dispense  the  product  by  the  ounce,  surely  it 
must  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  my  employers  pursue  this  busi- 
ness exclusively  for  philanthropic  purposes,  The  goods  are  never 
unseasonable  ;  wages  are  moderate,  and  as  long  as  one  customer 
in  each  block  continues  to  pay  his  bills,  there  can  be  no  risk  of 
loss.  The  largest  item  of  expense  is  stationery,  and  even  here 
economy  is  practiced,  the  same  bills  being  used  for  charges  for  ice 
delivered  and  for  ice  not  delivered."  Here  his  train  of  thought  is 
interrupted  by  the  falling  of  a  handful  of  ice,  and,  as  it  resolves  it- 
self again  to  liquid  form,  he  gazes  dreamily  upon  it,  and  falls  into 
this  reverie  :  ' '  How  wonderful  are  your  works,  O  Nature  !  Can 
it  be  possible  that  this  little  pool  of  water  was  but  now  a  solid, 
precious  mass,  which,  placed  upon  my  scale,  would  have  weighed 
two  pounds,  and  upon  any  scale  no  less  than  fourteen  ounces  ? 
How  simple  is  the  process  by  which  this  water,  converted  into  ice, 
again  becomes  water,  after  having  been  charged  as  ice.  Wonder- 
ful !  wonderful  !"  So  reflecting,  he  transfers  the  load  which  lie 
has  been  carrying  in  his  hand  to  a  chest,  and,  musingly  and  pen- 
sively, moves  onward. 


190 


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